


At Dawn, a Sparrow

by palladionaigis



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (Kind of) Love Confessions, Don't like it? Just don't read it, F/M, Insomnia, McHanzo if you squint I mean all I really mention is that Jesse has "somebody", Mercy needs to learn to sleep more, Post-Recall, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 04:30:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13426848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palladionaigis/pseuds/palladionaigis
Summary: It's 4AM, sleep is nowhere to be found on the horizon, and Angela finds comfort from an unlikely source.





	At Dawn, a Sparrow

**Author's Note:**

> I've been stewing on this one for a while. I've shipped these two for a long time, since right after I started playing Overwatch really (which was just after Christmas in 2016), and have since now been too scared to post this (not to mention it wasn't finished anyways). Joining the Gency server on Discord has been a huge confidence boost to me knowing I'm definitely not the only one and I realized this year I need to come out of my shell and not be so afraid to post these things.
> 
> This isn't beta-read and the second half of it was literally crapped out by my brain at 4AM. That being said, if you don't like Gency, you don't have to read, I won't force anything on you~ this is straight pre-relationship fluff with some... kind-of confessions.
> 
> Enjoy otherwise!

It's with a heaving sigh that Angela Ziegler realizes that today, just as the past few nights, she can't seem to fall into a comfortable sleep.

Whether she's on the Overwatch-issued bed (not too comfortable, though definitely more so than the army cots she was used to during her volunteer work) or the couch she'd brought from her office in Zürich (very comfortable, she'd moved it here when she heard about the recall as she'd been plagued by nights like these every once in awhile since even the days of the old Overwatch), she still can't seem to have her mind quiet down long enough for her to relax and fall into what is usually a dreamless sleep anyways.

She finds herself sitting at her desk after four hours (two of shifting around on the bed in her room and then two more of shifting around on the couch in her office), and even though she tries to be productive, it's in vain.

Her eyes are blurry and she's too tired to focus, though sleep just will not come. She stands and wraps a shawl around her shoulders, pulling all her hair up into a messy bun and tying it above her head, and with the press of a button, her door slides open.

It's 4AM now, surely. Even Athena dare not respond to her as she tiptoes through the hallway, her slippers making a soft pat-pat against the hard floor. It's rare that she even has time like this to just walk around the base, but she isn't even the only one awake. As she passes through the quarters, she slips past the lounge nearest the kitchen, and sees Lena inside, standing against the couch and leaned over. Her own words are soft, but it's hard for Angela not to overhear since it's quiet enough over the hum of the perpetual heater to still hear a pin drop.

She seems to be ending the conversation, as her body language suggests she's been standing there quite some time. "...No, Em, I told you before, I don't mind that you called me... no, I promise... okay, love you too." A breathy giggle clears the air and Angela smiles, locking eyes with Lena when she looks up from being on the phone, as though she knew the blonde had been standing outside the doorway with a gentle smile on her face. "Can't sleep, Angie?"

"Seems so, my dear." She leans heavily against the doorframe, hoping she doesn't look too tired.

"Want me to go make you a cuppa? Since I'm awake anyway, you know... been talking to Em and all." Her blush gives her away and Angela smiles. She feels like she's watched this girl grow up, and in a way, she has.

"No, Lena, but thank you. You need the sleep more than I do. Run off, before I need to tell Jack you're staying up past your bedtime." She winks and Lena giggles at the running joke that Jack is their ‘Team Dad’. Some of the newer recruits still don’t know, but Angela and Lena were both sharper than that. They figured it out within days, but out of respect never told anyone. She does what Angela says, though, and zips back off to her bedroom, obviously feeling at peace now that she had spoken with Emily. Angela wouldn't be surprised if this happened several times a week. She knows Lena has a tendency to sneak around when her mind is on a lot of things, and the two of them are certainly not the only ones who wander the hallways at night (and often, the other perpetrators then seek Angela out for advice on their sleeplessness - she is such a hypocrite telling them about all these stress relief techniques and not practicing any herself).

She finally makes it to the kitchen. No one else is around to share in her late night tryst. She does however realize that Lena’s idea isn’t exactly a bad one, either - a cup of herbal tea does sound nice. So she moves to put on the kettle, running the sink as quietly as she can. She knows that no one in the bunks can hear her from here in the kitchen, but it makes her feel better that she’s making an effort to be quiet. No one is asleep in the small attached lounge, even Jesse who had tendency to wander at night and collapse on one of the couches if his own stress relief - though his was a person - was not around.

It’s only been a few months since the recall, hardly enough time to get fully acquainted with everyone, and she goes over the small details she has learned as she stands and waits for the kettle. She knows she tries very hard to be liked throughout the Watchpoint - tries to give the best advice, know the most of the little facts about people, and watch over everyone in the motherly way that often only she could, aside from the fact that Ana was back.

What a shock that was. Her chest constricts just thinking about it. She had mourned a woman who had been a mentor to her, even though she staunchly disagreed with her views on biotic weaponry, and had mourned - not even to mention she helped Fareeha mourn the loss of her mother, too. Thinking about it, even like this in the middle of the night - or perhaps that’s what makes it worse - stresses her. She takes a deep breath, counts to ten. She’s already worked up, no reason to make it be more so. Her breathing slows back to its normal rhythm.

She can’t say she’s particularly close to anyone - aside from the people she’d known before. Jesse would seek her out even for the dumbest small injuries, and it would give her something to laugh at whenever she was annoyed. Fareeha was always around to give her gentle reassurance whenever she was down or feeling like she wasn’t good enough - sometimes as simple as a pat on the back or a gentle squeeze from where she would lay her hand on Angela’s upper arm - and it went a long way. Jack was around - usually just a stoic presence she could focus on in the background of a room to keep her grounded.

She had many things on her mind - Doomfist’s reappearance, the reappearance of O’Deorain just a short while ago, hell, even though she thought she’d gotten used to worrying about the casualties after every mission, she still can only ever think about how much work there is still to be done.

Just as the kettle begins to whistle, Angela opens the top flap so that it does not make any noise and continues to let it boil just a moment before she pours the hot water over the bag in her mug. She’s just using one of the standard-issue, but from where she stands she can see many of the others’ mugs in the open cabinet. Each of them is like a glimpse into their owner’s personality. She figures she should get one of her own soon to add to the pandemonium in the cupboards. She watches as steam floats up from the edge of her cup, and the room begins to hold the scent of chamomile and mint, ever so slightly.

“You are up very late I see, Doctor Ziegler,” a soft voice says from across the kitchen. It still makes her startle, but she whizzes around to see who could have possibly approached without a sound. She’s not surprised who it was. Her face breaks into a small smile - and some of the stress melts from her shoulders. She’s not a miracle worker - well, not always. The man who stands before her is one of the only times she actually considers her medicine a threat to mortality. A man she’d brought back from the brink of death, only for Blackwatch to smother him with false ideals and undercover missions.

Oh, how he has changed since then.

“Unfortunately, yes,” she answers, though she leans against the counter and smirks at him. “Though I could say the same for you.” At her quip, she swears that she sees Genji’s visor light up a little brighter. “I won’t get you in trouble with the big boys, don’t worry.” She turns back to her mug and fishes the teabag out with a spoon, then moves quietly to drop it into the bin. “Why do you find yourself up this early?”

“I usually meditate before sunrise. I’ve found a lovely spot off the edge of the rocks… it’s a little hard to get to, but I thought I’d stop in since I heard the cabinet door open, and see who was awake.” He strolls to her side and watches as she stirs a spoonful of honey into the cup, seeing it melt away into the water. “Smells wonderful,” Genji comments and she nods absentmindedly.

Angela is quiet for several long minutes. She takes a sip of her tea and turns so that her back rests against the edge of the counter. She looks at Genji, who notices and directs his visor in her direction. “Do you ever have so many things on your mind, it feels like you’ll never be able to shut it off? Feel free not to answer, I’m not sure why I blurted it out like that.” She gathers her cup into her hands, letting the ceramic warm her palms.

“Quite often, actually,” he responds to her, just as easily, and his body language seems to relax a little bit. She sighs out in relief. “The key is knowing when to stop worrying about things with no worth for you to worry about. You are troubled with the latest turn of events, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Very troubled, unfortunately.” She sighs and slouches some, which is especially odd for Genji to see. She’s always so composed - she was known for that facet of her personality, after all - but like this, it’s hard for him to know if she’s really okay or just kidding with him. Another thing he knows about her, both from the time he’s spent around her recently and from the time when she was first helping him recuperate years ago, is that she tries very hard to hide whenever she is troubled. Back then, and he curses himself for it now, he never pushed to ask what was wrong - he’d always just brooded and mentally cursed his brother and his own new body, instead of appreciating basically being brought back from the dead. He knows now he should have been there to support her more, should have asked her what was wrong, and possibly helped her through it.

It would have gotten his mind off of the things that were going on at the time, anyways. Not like it was a competition for favorite patient, either - it just so happened he was the one who required the most care back then. (Angela would never admit that her constant doting on him was because she was drawn to him - his personality underneath all the brooding and hurt was still there, and she got to see it a few times while she was watching him back then. It was almost too easy to fall into a routine, caring for him, talking with him, and being around him.)

“I hope this is not too forward, but the sun is coming up soon. If you’d like to join me, I can choose somewhere more… enclosed, if you will. I’m sure right now you’d rather not be alone with your thoughts, I know how dark your worries can become when you’re by yourself, or with nothing to distract you.”

“You do know, and you seem to know me. I’d like that,” she says and he nods. He thinks a moment, trying to remember where they could be that was still private.

“I have a perfect idea,” he says and moves forward. The soft background noise of the hydraulics in his prosthetics is very calming - gentle hisses of air release and mechanical joints working to produce his movements. “Luckily, it is already quite warm outside, so I do not think you will need an additional jacket.” She follows him, mug of tea in hand, and he just assumes she’ll bring it back later. If she doesn’t, he knows he will, if not only for her. He leads her through the halls on a path that she knows, but she doesn’t know where he is taking them.

He reaches their destination after several minutes of walking. He walks up a final set of stairs and opens a door, which he then holds for her. She walks through, and a warm early morning breeze hits her. She smells the salt of the ocean and the fresh air, and this place just feels like home again. She spent so many years here, not to mention the old HQ. He leads her around a corner of metal scaffolding and building edges, and then they’re high up, on the roof on the building sitting just off the outskirts of the Watchpoint, overlooking the ocean.

The view is breathtaking - Angela doesn’t make a habit of going up to the roof, after all - and he sits just by the edge, not with his legs dangling, though. Instead, he opts for his usual cross-legged pose, and pats the spot beside him. She sits beside him, holding her mug securely in her hands which rest in her lap. It creates a pleasant warmth against her fingers, and she realizes he was right - the shawl is just enough, and it’s already warming up.

The sky is already starting to paint itself red from the dark shades of blue off behind them as they prepare to watch the sun come up, and she raises her mug to take a sip before hearing a soft click and hiss beside her. When she glances over at him, she realizes he’s in the making of taking the faceplate off. “I hope you do not mind,” he says softly, “people are not very fond of coming up here, so I am usually alone.” His voice is soft, but she smiles, directing her gaze forward. She knows what his face looks like, has seen it many times, and at its worst during his recovery as well, so she’s sure he is not shy about it in front of her.

In truth, Genji knows his face is certainly not what it used to be. In his eyes is a lot of old anger but also self-forgiveness. The skin that remained of his face littered with long since healed scars, and part of his jaw had been lost in the attack on him, which was replaced with the same black synthetic skin that made up most of the reconstructed areas of his torso underneath his current armor suit. The top part of his helmet soon came off and he breathed out, relaxed, when he finally felt the morning breeze in earnest. His lips pull into a gentle smile, and this is when she decides to turn her head towards him.

It’s picturesque, and it’s cliché. The whole moment is, in itself, just a raging testament to the fact that she has convinced herself that she surely will never be happy. Yet she looks to the side and she sees a man who has changed, thoroughly and completely - for the better, but in the worst of circumstances. She sees the twinkle of the reflection of the sun, just beginning to come up the horizon, in his eyes. She sees the way the colors of the sky paint over the metal plates of his armor and prosthetics, and how the warm glow of the sunrise bathes both of them.

It’s too perfect. It makes her frown. Her head turns away again, and she takes another decisive sip from her mug.

“I can tell you’re troubled. If you want to talk about it, I am here.” He is looking at her, she can tell from out of her peripheral, but she doesn’t want to meet his gaze. 

“You’re very sweet... I’m sorry, Genji. Years of losing people has left me… rather closed off, for lack of a better term. I try to be what everyone expects me to be - a strong figure for some of the younger recruits to look up to, someone reliable for everyone to come to talk to if they need it, support out on the field… and sometimes the person underneath it all, me, not Mercy, or Dr. Ziegler, just me… sometimes I crumble a little under the pressure. I know it is normal, that everyone does, and yet…”

He is silent, but he is staring straight ahead. Angela knows he’s probably thinking about how to reply to her words. He was always so thoughtful with his letters. Every detail he added was carefully planned, every question of hers would always be answered. She could practically see him thinking. She smiled absentmindedly, though it probably looks a bit sad, if anything. “This may not mean much coming from me, however… I feel it is fitting to say that at the very least, right here with me… you don’t have to be anyone else but yourself.”

“Oh, Genji.” She chuckles softly into the morning air, and when she finally speaks next, the sun is cresting the horizon, casting a brilliant light across the landscape. The last edges of blue are disappearing behind them over the back of the Watchpoint, and the deep reds start to fade into oranges and yellows. 

“I am surprised you do not notice me staring at you,” he says after a while, watching as she takes a sip from her tea. “Maybe it is the visor, then…”

“No, no. It’s easy to tell where your gaze follows even with the visor, Genji. Honestly, Jesse told me once that you were, one time when you were having a weapons recalibration, and happened to have your faceplate off. I... I remember looking back at you, I think you had… begun to daydream or something, you were distracted, and… I looked away fairly quickly. It… it is not often I get to see you smile.” One of her own tugs at her lips.

Embarrassment burns in his chest but he pushes it aside desperately, ignoring as it tries to claw its way back up to the surface. He wonders if he’s blushing. He hopes not. “Well, if it is any consolation, I’m…” He takes a long breath in, and she wonders what kind of declaration warranted such a pause. “I am glad you saw it. You see so much negativity, it is time someone smiled at you. Like you said, I do not smile much, I am the first to admit this, but I like to think that when I do, it means something.”

This time, it is her face that burns. It seems like such a trivial thing, but coming from him in a context like this one, it really means the world to her. She remembers that day and remembers the sheer warmth of his expression, and how everything about his body language radiated openness for that brief moment, and a willingness maybe to let her in someday. “Thank you,” she whispers, and she watches out of the corner of her eye as he turns to look at her. Before long she realizes her tea mug is empty, and she sets it aside somewhere behind her.

He takes that time to build up the courage to look at her when she turns back to him. He motions closer beside her, and she nods. He slides closer, and they sit in peace and quiet, watching the sun rise, Genji presumably doing what he came for. This early in the morning, there would be no one looking for either of them, so they can enjoy each other’s company just a little longer. 

“I would not mind if we did this more often,” he admits softly, and she resigns, leaning her head onto his shoulder. He’s close enough for her to.

“I wouldn’t mind either,” she returns, and he holds out his hand between them. She takes it, and laces her fingers between his, head still comfortably nestled against him.

“When do you suppose they will expect us back?” He asks after a few minutes, the sky brightening with every passing moment as the sun came further up into their field of view. He rubs his thumb in gentle circles on the back of her palm gently from his hold on her hand. It’s a simple action, but the sincerity behind it makes her chest ache.

“Hardly a clue, though I don’t really care either way. My first appointment is not until late into the morning today. Even Jack isn’t pulling me away for an early morning meeting.”

“Then, what of you catching up on your sleep?” His voice sounds concerned, and she sighs. He feels her shrug, and he sighs. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

“I know.” She slumps just in the slightest, and he keeps his gaze on her. She seems to feel this and smiles. “I promise, I’ll try to take a cat nap later today. I have a small block of time where I should be able to squeeze in a short one.”

“I will check on you tonight to make sure you did, you know.”

“I look forward to it.” Angela chuckles and closes her eyes, continuing to rest on his shoulder.

Here, for now, she’s content.


End file.
